


Tell Me Tomorrow

by Flowerparrish



Category: Marvel
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Angst, Miscommunication, Not Beta Read, Rejection - Temporary, Valentine's Day, and then many more kisses, confession of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish
Summary: ClintlovesValentine's Day. Bucky, on the other hand, very much does not.ORHe’s going to romance the hell out of Bucky.…As soon as he figures out how.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 21
Kudos: 103
Collections: 2021 Winterhawk Valentine's Day Exchange





	Tell Me Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pietray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pietray/gifts).



> I shamelessly stole inspiration for this fic from the fact that my best friend slash soulmate hates Valentine's Day passionately, and I kind of love it. 
> 
> For Misha, I hope you enjoy! I kind of took your prompt and went a little wild. Happy late Valentine's Day!

Clint loves Valentine’s Day. No, more than that: he _adores_ it.

He knows this is not an enthusiasm everyone shares. He understands; largely corporate holiday, idea you should prove your love on one day instead of all the time, people doing the bare minimum and getting credit… yeah, he gets it. _More_ than gets it.

But. Well. It’s a holiday where he can show his friends how much he loves them by giving them food. Chocolate, baked goods, home cooked meals—whatever their food-based love language is, Clint can deliver.

It’s a Thing of his. For a lot of years, he didn’t have anyone to do this for. Then, he had Nat, who was confused and perturbed and still loved it when he dragged her out to a bar and bought her drinks all night while they played at being normal.

Now, he’s got way more people than that. It hasn’t dampened his enthusiasm in the slightest; if anything, it’s made him _more_ eager to give, give, give.

There may be a part of Clint that desperately needs to perform his affection. He doesn’t dwell on why. It’s just the way he is. It’s not hurting anyone, not even him, so there’s no harm in it.

February rolls around, and Clint goes all out, and it’s a thing.

But there’s never been a year where he’s had more-than-friends feelings for someone on Valentine’s Day. His crushes are often fleeting and have never stuck around into a new year. It’s never bothered him; Clint knows the value of love that’s platonic, and it would be a lie to say he never _wanted_ something romantic, but he’s fine as he is.

It’s fine.

But this year.

_This_ year.

Bucky fucking Barnes moved into the tower in March of last year, just after his birthday, and this will be his first Valentine’s Day in residence.

By coincidence, this is also the first Valentine’s where Clint has _feelings_ for someone.

Feelings are, on most days of the year, gross and to be avoided. But this day was _made_ for Clint to go all out with his feelings of affection, whatever they may be, and Clint doesn’t know how to deny himself that opportunity.

He’s going to romance the hell out of Bucky.

…As soon as he figures out how.

* * *

“It’s not going to work.”

It’s not the thoughtful and slightly cryptic advice Clint expected when he finally caved, on February sixth, and asked Natasha for help. Just help getting started! Guiding him to the right ballpark. He could find his way from there. (Probably. Maybe.)

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not a fan of the ‘holiday’.” Clint takes offense the way she puts “holiday” in air quotes. She does the finger gesture and everything.

“Okay, but like, he doesn’t have to like the day. Just whatever I do for him.”

“It’s not going to work,” she repeats, slower this time.

“You’ve been telling me to go for it for months,” Clint points out, undeterred.

She sighs. “You’re not listening.”

“Nope,” he agrees cheerfully. “So you might as well tell me what kind of things he likes.”

Nat is silent for long moments, statue-still and unblinking. When her façade cracks, though, she just rolls her eyes. “You know what he likes.”

It’s… not untrue. Clint _does_ know what Bucky likes. But none of it feels… _enough._

“Nat,” he whines.

“Don’t overthink it,” she advises. Finally.

It’s cryptic and yet helpful. Simple. Clint can do simple!

“Thank you,” he says. He makes sure to put just enough emphasis on the first word that she knows he would have gone away sooner if she’d just told him that in the first place.

“You’re giving me a headache,” she complains. “Go plan somewhere else.”

With a crooked salute, he goes. She’s right, after all. He has planning to do.

* * *

Bucky’s distaste for the holiday grows more apparent as the day approaches. He gets grumpier by the day, first going quite whenever someone discusses plans, then getting snappy and bitter.

It’s not a good look. Everyone takes to giving Bucky a wide berth, like this is just one of his moody periods.

Everyone, that is, except for Clint.

“Do you like chocolate?” he asks Bucky as they spar one day.

“No.”

“Not at _all?”_ Clint asks, appalled.

“Not in February.”

Clint sighs. Back to the drawing board.

* * *

“What’s your favorite dessert?” Clint asks after shooting Bucky’s avatar in the head in Call of Duty.

Bucky curses and glances at Clint, eyes narrowed, as he waits to respawn. “Why?”

Clint shrugs innocently. “No reason.”

Bucky’s avatar respawns. “No comment,” he says, and then shoots Clint’s avatar right back.

Clint sighs, and it’s only a little bit because of the video game.

* * *

Finally, he has only one option left.

On the day itself, he does everything he normally does. He bakes cupcakes that he meticulously frosts, and then he bakes cookies and brownies for good measure. He cooks the team a huge lunch with multiple dishes so that there’s something for everyone’s tastes.

And then he corners Bucky before evening sets in and says, “Want to order pizza and watch TV?”

Bucky looks suspicious. “What?”

“Pizza? TV?”

Bucky’s hesitation is so huge that it practically has a gravity field all its own by the time he responds. “…Sure.”

SUCCESS!

Clint tries not to look too thrilled about the response. “Great! You pick what we’re watching. I’ll order the pizza.”

* * *

It’s beyond perfect.

They curl up on Clint’s couch and drape themselves in fluffy blankets. They eat more pizza than any humanoid should be capable of consuming—at least Bucky has the super-metabolism in his corner; Clint’s gonna have to run a few extra miles tomorrow morning—and they watch a sad zombie show Bucky discovered when he decided to become an afficionado of zombie media a few months back.

Clint spends more time watching Bucky than the show. No shade to the show—it’s really good, he’s going to have to put it on again later and pay better attention—but Bucky’s so distracting.

He looks… soft, huddled under a blanket on Clint’s couch. Relaxed in a way he hasn’t in a couple of weeks.

“Can I kiss you?” Clint asks, leaping without looking and blurting it out before he can second guess.

Bucky turns to look at him, and his brow furrows. “Is this a date?”

“Uh…” Clint blanks. “No?”

That must not be a satisfactory answer. Bucky frowns harder and says, “JARVIS, can you turn the TV off, please?”

The TV goes dark. The room is silent in a way that echoes the gravity-laden heaviness of Bucky’s earlier hesitance to respond.

Bucky gets to his feet and says, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for…” he waves a hand at the empty pizza boxes, the couch, the TV, encompassing it all in one sweeping gesture. “Bye.”

Clint feels frozen in spite of the blanket around him. He can’t move, can’t speak, just nods a little dumbly and watches Bucky leave.

He sits in the silence for a few long moments and tries to figure out _where_ this all wetn wrong.

In the end, he concludes (as he often needs to, fuck) that maybe, just maybe, he should have listened to Natasha.

He slumps down on the couch and says, “JARVIS, can you restart the sad zombie show?”

He miserably watches through the first season until he falls asleep sitting up.

When he wakes the next morning, he’s got a stiff neck and his heart doesn’t feel any less crushed.

* * *

There’s only one thing for it.

Clint goes on a mission to buy all of the sale post-holiday chocolate so that he can eat it alone in his room and mope. Ice cream is _normally_ the best thing for a broken heart, yeah, but that’s because 364 days out of the year, chocolate is full priced.

Clint’s aimlessly filling his cart with chocolate, two of everything that looks promising and more if there’s bins full of the stuff, when he hears his name.

He looks up and his eyes catch on… Bucky?

“What are you doing here?”

Bucky looks down at the chocolate and raises his eyebrows. “Well, I was gonna buy some chocolate as an apology to make up for being an asshole…” he trails off. “I guess you probably don’t need it, though?”

“I…” Clint is pretty sure Bucky’s not making any sense. “You don’t need to apologize.” Fuck, _he_ should probably be apologizing, right?

Bucky laughs, but it sounds bitter. “I do.”

Clint narrows his eyes. “Want to go back to my apartment and help me make a dent in this chocolate?”

Bucky meets his gaze, eyes searching, and slowly nods. “Yeah,” he says. There is no hesitation this time; if anything, the air between them feels light. “I’d like that.”

“And after we stuff ourselves with chocolate, can I kiss you?” Clint asks hopefully. “Or is that still a no?”

“It’s not a no,” Bucky says quickly. “It’s a yes.”

Clint wilts in relief. “Okay. Good.”

“Good,” Bucky agrees.

* * *

It is good.

It’s so fucking good.

It’s so good that at some point, they relocate to Clint’s bed. He’s not really pushing for anything more than horizontal kissing, though, and Bucky seems to be in the same boat.

“Why did you want to apologize?” Clint asks when the kissing gets slower and slower and then finally stops, the two of them just laying tangled and breathing together.

“I was an ass.”

Clint shrugs. “You felt manipulated. It’s fair.”

“I’ve _been_ an ass,” Bucky clarifies. “For a while. I hate this holiday, but I shouldn’t try to make everyone else miserable.”

Clint hums a noncommittal response. It’s not that he disagrees, but if he can’t stop himself from overdoing the holiday, how can he blame Bucky for being endlessly grumpy about it?

“Natasha helped me put it in perspective,” Bucky adds. “That it was important to you, and you wanted to share it with me because…” he trails off, like even now he can’t quite voice the idea.

Clint can relate. It’s easy for him to finish the statement; to confirm what Bucky is still unsure of. “Because you’re important to me.” He leans over to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “But I shouldn’t force you to tolerate my affection.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Tolerate? Am I that bad at kissing?”

Clint rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Bucky nods. “Well. Next year we can compromise.”

_Next year._ “Yeah?” Clint asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “You don’t try to do anything romantic, and I’ll binge eat sale chocolate with you the day after. Deal?”

Clint brightens. “Deal.”

Valentine’s Day is a holiday that Clint loves, because he loves to show the people he cares about that he cares about them.

But if doing that for Bucky means accepting his grumpiness and treating it like a normal day, and then showing him in all the ways that make Clint happy a day later?

Well, it is, after all, just a day.


End file.
